


Gala

by TheModernChromatic



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Drinking, M/M, Parties, Smut, rich au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 05:47:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1928919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheModernChromatic/pseuds/TheModernChromatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren shows up at a party uninvited and leaves with a babe. </p><p>EDIT: Been awhile since I wrote this! Gonna add a WARNING for dubious consent bc drunk</p><p>inspired by some <a href="http://hotsinglesreadyforpringles.tumblr.com/post/89426987760/eren-goes-2-a-formal-event-uninvited-and-finds-a">fanart</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Gala

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: dubious consent

As far as parties went, it wasn’t the worst one he’d ever been to. He honestly hadn’t been expecting an invitation. Sure, he’d had a few drinks with the hosts once or twice--what were their names again? Oh. Yeah. Reiner and Bertholdt. They helped run some bigtime advertising firm that held shares in the Kirchstein conglomerate. Dad had said they would be useful if he got to know them, and better him than his father considering how young they were. He hadn’t disliked them. There were plenty of people he disliked, but he hadn’t liked them much either. He’d assumed it was something of a mutual feeling, but then they’d invited him to the gala they were hosting. Who knows. Maybe it really was just a business ploy. Either way, he’d felt obligated to show up, even if just to please the old man.

“Hey! Jean Kirchstein! So glad you could make it!”

Jean whirled around when he heard his name, mentally telling himself to stop slouching and actually socialize for once. He swapped his drink into his other hand to shake the one in front of him. Reiner was immaculately dressed, and Bertholdt behind him too. Jean felt an urge to smirk at the way the taller of the two seemed to try to hide behind Reiner.

“Oh, yeah, thought I’d stop by for a spell. You know, the usual.” He put on his best smile. “Hope I’m dressed well enough.”

Of course he was. This was his best suit.

“You look great,” Reiner assured him with an ear-to-ear grin. Jeez. Did this guy ever stop smiling? “The dress code’s really more for fun anyway. Is that one from the Kirchstein line?”

“This?” Jean lifted the lapel. Expensive as they were, Kirchstein suits weren’t exactly on runways. Certainly not acceptable at a gala like this. “No, this is Armani. I got it a few weeks ago in Luxembourg.”

“I told you it was Armani,” Bertholdt huffed behind him. Reiner smiled at him.

“Bert knows his suits.” Reiner jabbed a thumb at him, then turned and gestured to the ballroom. “Come on, let’s get some drinks. We’ve got the ballroom the whole night.” Reiner’s laugh boomed. “Actually, we have it as long as we like since we just bought out this hotel chain.”

Jean laughed along. He already knew that. Not that it would’ve surprised him if he hadn’t known. He glanced around at the crowd for a moment. He recognized a few people, not that he liked them much. He decided he’d at least try to enjoy himself, even if he had to stick around the hosts the whole night. They weren’t bad company, at least.

“Drinks!” Reiner clapped a hand on Jean’s shoulder and started steering him toward the bar, bypassing a few servers with trays of champagne. He set his nearly-empty glass on a tray with a few other empty glasses on it, content to follow Reiner and Bertholdt to the bar. Jean was fine with it. He figured champagne wasn’t hard enough to do any damage anyway, and he was always more social with a bit of liquor in him. They didn’t make it to the bar.

“Reiner! Congratulations!”

Reiner’s hand pulled away from Jean’s shoulder to catch a big fluffy ball of pink as it sailed at him, heels clicking. Jean paused, trying to stick with his plan of staying by Bert and Reiner for the whole night. Being with the hosts was bound to come with some roadbumps. He watched Reiner spin and set down the tiny blonde with another laugh and his ever-present smile.

“Thank you, Christa! Where’s--” Reiner looked across the ballroom. “There she is!” He started towards a tall, slender woman in a suit with her hair pulled back, short and dark, already walking towards them. Reiner remembered his forgotten guest and spun. “Oh, Jean, we’ll meet you at the bar in a bit.”

He kept walking, Bert in tow. Jean watched long enough for the three to get to the woman in the pantsuit--the only one in the ballroom as far as he could see--before sighing.

“Yup. Catch up with you later,” he grumbled. He jammed his hands in his pockets and headed for the bar. He was loathe to think he’d spend the gala they way most of his nights went, drinking alone at some bar, albeit being better-dressed than he usually was. He turned his hands in front of his face, debating on whether or not to keep his gloves on. A good portion of the people milling about the ballroom were also wearing gloves, so he wasn’t out of place, but it didn’t feel right to hold a glass of anything he was willing to get drunk off of while still wearing gloves. Still, he liked the suit better with them on.

The bartender came up to him the second he’d swung a leg over one of the stools. That’s how it always was, though he supposed it had something to do with the way he dressed. Good tips. It seemed unnecessary here, though. At a gala like this, everyone was bound to tip well. At least it made him feel welcome. He could always count on good bartenders to hear him out.

“Just get me an Irish trash can or something.” He crossed his hands in front of himself and slid his feet to the bottom of the counter. He was content just watching people go by. He wasn’t surprised to see suits from the Kirschstein line considering the presence they had here, even if he’d deemed them unfit for a gala like this. Everyone was eager to talk up the Kirschstein name with the possibility of executives hanging around. Jean was no exception, even if all he was to them was an heir. Sure, he was going to school and he’d been learning the business from his father his whole life, but he held no official power.

“Smells like money, huh?”

A voice behind him made him jump. He’d turned his back to some of the other barstools to watch the crowd and he hadn’t been expecting anyone to sneak up on him. He turned slowly, out of curiosity. The bartender floated by and set his drink in front of him.

“I’ll have whatever he’s having.” The voice said. The bartender grimaced and stalked off. The guy sitting next to Jean tsked. “Every time…”

Between his drink and the bartender, Jean hadn’t bothered to look at his sudden companion at first, but all of it was more interesting than his drink. He might as well get a look at it while still sober anyhow. He allowed himself to look, though he’d caught a glimpse out of his peripheral vision. He turned and gawked. The guy who’d so unceremoniously sat himself next to Jean quirked an eyebrow.

“What? Is _everyone_ here snooty and rude?”

“What are you _wearing_?”

The guy flashed a grin and scoffed.

“What am I wearing? What are _you_ wearing! You look like you just bounced out of Mr. Hopper’s Penguins.”

“You can’t be in here like that!” Jean was still gawking. This kid had some serious gall.

“Nobody stopped me.”

He reached a hand out in front of himself and for a second Jean thought he’d introduce himself, but the hand kept going, along the bar, closed around Jean’s drink and brought it back. He sipped cooly.

“Hey, asshole! That’s my drink!”

“I just ordered you another one.” The guy shrugged.

Smug bastard. Jean fumed, utterly at a loss. He’d seen partycrashers plenty of times, but there were always people to deal with them before they caused too much damage. But it seemed like nobody had even seen this guy. He had to have gone straight for the bar, or he would’ve stuck out like a sore thumb the way he was dressed, just a black jacket thrown haphazardly over a white v-neck with some black jeans. He hadn’t even bothered to try to blend in.

“I’m getting security.” Jean grit his teeth and made to stand.

“Why? So you can go back to drinking alone? Seems to me like I’m the only one talking to you.” The guy smirked and took another sip of the drink he’d snatched.

“I’m waiting for people, dipshit.”

The guy hummed around the glass between his lips.

“Doesn’t seem like the kind of drink you get when you’re waiting for people.” He took a big swallow. “Seems more like the kind of thing you order when you wanna get fucking sloshed.”

The bartender set down a second drink in front of the guy, still eyeing him warily. He set down a check with it.

“Your drink. And your bill.”

The guy swatted at the air, set down Jean’s drink and reached into his back pocket before setting a card on the table.

“I know, I know. My kind pays up front, eh?”

The bartender took the card with a grunt and left.

“Too many drinks for just me.” The guy flashed Jean another grin and shook some hair out of his face. He lifted the untouched drink and extended it to Jean. “Come on. From the looks of it, I just bought your drink.” He waved the check at Jean. “Sit.”

Jean shot him a look as he snatched up the drink, sitting back on the barstool. He eyed the guy wearily, disapproving of his unkempt dark hair hanging in his face, the way he slouched, leaned an elbow on the bar and sipped carelessly.

“Christ, that’s strong.” He set his drink down and stuck out a hand again, an actual introduction. “Eren.”

Jean eyed the hand in front of him for a moment before meeting it with his own hand. At least with the glove he wouldn’t have to get anyone’s sweat on his hands.

“Jean,” he added with a curt nod. He gripped his glass in both hands, watching the guy over the lip of it, trying to ignore the way he was being watched. The stare was intense, a strange green, the wearer’s expression almost challenging. Jean set his glass down with unnecessary force. “Who let you in here anyway?”

“I let myself in.” He shrugged. “They don’t exactly watch the back doors.”

Jean harrumphed and went back to his drink. The sooner he could finish it, the better. He could feel Eren glaring at him for ignoring him, but Jean didn’t care. If he really was just some guy who’d wandered in through the back to see the gala, then he’d probably be easy to get rid of. Unless he actually was a crasher. Even then, Jean would just get security. But he didn’t feel like leaving his drink unattended, so he decided to do things the easy way and fished his wallet out of his slacks.

“Here. I don’t owe you for the drink anymore. Keep it. I don’t have anything smaller.” He handed over the bill, crisp and new, without a second thought, figuring the guy would take it and leave. Jean took another swallow of his drink, glad to finally feel it going to his head.

“I don’t want it.” He slid it back across the bar top to Jean.

Jean stared at it for a second and slid it back.

“I’m handing you this and telling you to get out of here before someone calls security on you.”

The bill stayed on the bar, untouched, closer to Eren than Jean.

“I’m not done with my drink.” Eren eyed Jean obstinately. Jean could tell that he’d started drinking slower on purpose. He looked Jean in the eye. “I don’t see anyone around here who’s going to call security.”

“Whatever. It’s your funeral.” Jean left the bill there. He was surprised to hear a brittle laugh next to him.

“Well _someone_ must’ve died to put you in the mood you’re in. I’m touched to think it was me.”

“Why are you even here?” Jean snapped. He couldn’t finish his drink fast enough.

“Because I want to be. Unlike you.”

Jean turned to face him, slowly, arms crossed. The guy kept sipping at his drink, staring back at Jean with a smile hidden by his glass. Jean kept glaring at him, trying out figure out what his fucking deal was, showing up to an extremely exclusive and expensive gala just to sit at the bar and drink. It seemed like way too much trouble for something that could easily be done at any other, more public bar. Yet the guy hadn’t even tried to dress up to blend in.

“I wanna be here,” Jean said after some time. He watched the guy finish his drink before saying anything again.

“Yeah? Then why are you at the bar by yourself?”

“I’m waiting for someone!” Jean said again, defensively.

“You’ll be drunk off your ass before they get here if you finish that.” Eren smirked. “It made me lightheaded. You’re a total lightweight, just look at you.”

Jean glared at him open-mouthed, as if to say something, but he’d only finished half his drink. Finishing it would definitely pack a punch. He sneered, turned, and downed it as easily as he could. He wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist as a ‘fuck you’ to Eren, not caring about his jacket. He’d have it dry-cleaned later.

Eren gave him a half-grin and waved the bartender over.

“Two more!” He slid the bill Jean had tried to give him to the bartender.

“I’m not a fucking lightweight.” Jean could feel the liquor stirring in his gut, warming his entire body.

“Put your money where your mouth is, richboy.” Eren sat back and crossed his arms.

“Is that a bet?”

“Guess it is.” Eren shrugged.

“Fine.” Jean caught the attention of the bartender. “Scratch that. Give us a round of shots instead.” He turned his attention back to Eren. “First one to slur their words loses.”

“Easy,” Eren scoffed. “What are the stakes?”

“If I win, you leave.”

“Ouch. Fine. No matter who wins, I’m leaving. But if I win, you’re coming with me.”

Jean considered it for a moment. He was just buzzed enough to agree, so he stuck out a hand.

“Deal.”  

Jean had no idea how the kid did it. They added on to the bet so that they’d have to keep talking so as soon as someone slurred their words, they’d lose. The kid kept talking about the ocean or something like that. Jean didn’t know how he kept talking about it for so long, but he did. He didn’t have much to say himself, so he pointed out people he knew and shit-talked them. A few people stopped by the bar to get a drink or so, but none of them stayed or expressed any interest in their drinking game. Eren downed shot after shot, and Jean matched him, but it got hard to see straight after a while. He started babbling, and mid-sentence, Eren started giggling.

“You just lost so hard,” Eren laughed.

“Wha’? Di’ not.” Jean tried to arrange his face into something resembling anger, but he felt too light for that. He could feel himself start to smile, going along with Eren’s incessant giggling.  

“Yes you did! I win.”  

A hand closed around Jean’s wrist and tugged him off the barstool. He took a moment to get his balance. He looked first at the hand around his wrist as if it were some foreign creature, then up and got the shock of a strange green stare, waiting. He found himself being tugged outside, quickly (or at least relatively so given the state he was in) along the walls trying to be discreet. Jean was even more surprised to find himself in the lobby of the hotel again.

“Where we going?” He blinked at his surroundings.

“You got a room?” Eren asked in reply.

“Yeah?”

“Give me the key.”

Jean fished it out of his jacket pocket. He blinked again in surprise at his empty hand, not quite seeing Eren snatch it up. He followed the tug on his wrist instinctively. His feet didn’t know when to stop moving, and when Eren stopped suddenly in the elevator, Jean kept going, stumbling into Eren. The fabric of Eren’s shirt wrinkled in his hands where Jean clung to keep himself upright as soon as the elevator started moving.

“And you said you weren’t a lightweight.” Eren laughed again and Jean joined him, trying to figure out why they were laughing. Eren was leaning heavily against the elevator wall, and there was a distinct lilt to the way he spoke, but he was still speaking clearly and holding himself up, which was more than could be said for the likes of Jean.

“Yerrkinnapretty, yanno?” Jean looked up at Eren from where he held onto his shirt.

“You’re so wasted,” Eren laughed. He kept laughing. Aside from leaning on the wall and talking carefully, the way he couldn’t stop laughing was the only thing that gave away how drunk he was. It made Jean laugh too, every time.

“No, really.” Jean tried to sober himself, pull himself up. “You’re hot.” He tried again when he was closer to being face-to-face with Eren.

“Yeah?” Eren said, right in his face. The space between them seemed to disappear, the heat of their breath filling it. Jean swallowed heavily.

“Yeah.”

They stumbled into one another, mouths meeting messily in something more like a collision than a kiss. Jean’s hands found their way into Eren’s hair, tugging him down as Jean did his best to stay on his feet. He was successful until the elevator stopped moving suddenly and he lost his balance. He tumbled backward, taking Eren with him. The two stayed on the floor for a second, faces close. Jean’s eyes fluttered up at Eren, incredibly preoccupied with the fact that Eren was on top of him between his knees, until Eren rolled off laughing. He stumbled to his feet.

“The elevator’s closing!” He stopped the door with a hand and held onto it to keep from ending up on the ground again. He was way more drunk than he let on.

Jean blinked at him from the floor, trying to get the room to stop spinning long enough to get out of the elevator. He regained his footing with the grace of a newborn foal and was quick to tumble into Eren again getting out of the elevator before the doors had a chance to close on him. Eren lead him to the wall opposite the elevator and they stared after it as it closed with a ding. They turned back to one another out of instinct and their mouths collided again.

“You’re really, really drunk,” Eren panted into his mouth.

“Fuck you.” Jean pulled Eren’s hair again, provoking a little gasp.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Eren grinned ear-to-ear.

Jean didn’t get a chance to reply because Eren snagged his wrist again, pulling him down the hallway to the room Jean had booked. It wasn’t hard to find, given that there were only four on the floor. Reiner and Bertholdt had booked the penthouse, so Jean had settled for one of the massive suites on the floor below it. Eren swiped the key a few times, cursing when it didn’t work right away, and finally got the door open. Jean stumbled in after him, not getting any better at staying on his feet. He hit the door once Eren closed it, catching himself and pretending to fiddle with the lock to cover his fall. Eren came up behind him.

“I like this suit.” He soothed kisses into Jean’s neck, his hands wrapping around his waist and sliding down the slacks to caress Jean’s thighs. “It’d look better on the floor.”

Jean leaned back, sighing with the rhythm of Eren’s hands.

“A bow tie? Really?”

He felt Eren’s hands at his throat again, pulling the tie out of its knot. He kept leaning back, seeming to lean into infinity. He let his eyes slide shut.

He woke up on the couch to find Eren sitting next to him, nursing a bottle of water. He sat up too fast and blood rushed to his head.

“Easy, easy.” Eren pressed a bottle of water into his hand.

“Did I black out?” Jean’s fingers fumbled with the cap. He realized he was still wearing his gloves after a few frustrating seconds of trying to get the bottle open. Eren plucked it out of his hands and opened it for him while Jean pulled off his gloves and tossed them at the coffee table.

“For a few minutes, yeah. Drink that unless you want a massive hangover tomorrow.”

“Hangover is my middle name,” Jean grumbled, taking a swig of his water. “Jean Hangover Kirschstein.”

It took Jean a second to catch the look on Eren’s face.

“Kirschstein, huh? _The_ Kirschstein?”

“Yeah…” Jean focused his attention on his water bottle. That was his least favorite schtick. _The_ Kirschstein. Like it meant something to him. Eren’s expression melted into a mischievous one. “What,” Jean snapped. He choked down the rest of his water and tossed the bottle.

“Jean Kirschstein. Lonely, mopey, grumpy, richboy.” Eren finished his water with ease, ignoring Jean’s sneer. He crawled across the couch. “Grumpy Jean Kirschstein in his pretty suits.” Eren ran a finger over Jean’s knee.

“Shut up, asshole.”

“Make me.” Eren kept crawling forward, parting Jean’s knees and pushing him onto his back. Eren kept goading him, his hands moving up Jean’s thighs. “Jean Kirschstein. Too bad your pretty suit can’t hide how hard you are.”

Jean sucked in a breath, shaking as Eren ghosted a hand over the tent in his slacks.

“F-fuck you, Eren.”

Eren grinned and chuckled running his hands up Jean’s stomach. He slid them into the jacket when he got to Jean’s shoulders and pushed it off. Jean struggled to move with Eren’s hands, the jacket catching around his elbows. Eren helped him untangle himself and the jacket flew off. Eren shrugged his jacket off and turned his attention back to Jean. He lunged forward and caught Jean in a kiss, lips moving fervishly together. Eren pressed his hips down onto Jean’s groin and Jean gasped in his mouth. He took the opening to work his tongue in, flicking it in and probing deep into Jean’s mouth. Jean fought back, forcing his hips upward. Eren’s mouth went slack for a moment and Jean nipped at his tongue. Eren pulled back and eyed Jean with a wild look.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard…” he breathed. He licked his lips and worked his hands between them, undoing the buttons on Jean’s vest, then his shirt. Jean struggled to keep up, tugging on Eren’s v-neck. The water had helped to clear his head, but his hands were still too clumsy. Eren stopped to lift his arms and let Jean pull the shirt over his head when he managed to get his hands to work.

Eren stripped him out of the vest and raked his nails down Jean’s bare skin when he had the shirt unbuttoned. Jean hooked his fingers uselessly into the waistband of Eren’s jeans. He heard the sound of Eren’s shoes hitting the floor as he kicked them off. He felt lame just sitting in one place while Eren worked his hands over him, but his head was still spinning. The only thing he could process was that his pants were way too tight.

“Needa get out of these fucking pants,” he growled.

Eren leaned back and looked momentarily shocked, but he eased it over with a grin and started undoing Jean’s slacks. Jean lifted his hips when Eren started pushing them down and felt bad when Eren had to take off his shoes to get them all the way off. He wasn’t sure he could’ve gotten them off on his own, though. Jean couldn’t help the thrill that came when Eren wiggled out of his jeans. They hit the floor with a loud, metallic clang from the buckle of Eren’s belt.  

Eren’s hips swayed slightly as he crawled back onto the couch. It was unintentional, but the motion of it was still enough to get Jean’s attention. He struggled out of his shirt, but he wasn’t coordinated enough to get out of it on his own and it got caught on his elbows again. He tried leaning forward to give himself more space to pull it off, but Eren pushed him back again, his arms pinned behind him trapped in the sleeves. Jean wanted to get angry at him, but Eren trailed a hand up his body, over his boxers. Jean shut one eye, moaning softly. Eren caressed his hand up and down the ridge and Jean shivered. He thrashed again, still trying to get out of his shirt and Eren eventually mercied him.

“Let me help you,” he murmured, letting Jean up.

“I got it.” Jean thought with the extra space he’d be able to free himself, but his attempts were unsuccessful. Eren laughed at him and pulled Jean’s arms out of the sleeves. Staring into Eren’s eyes made it hard for Jean to focus; the eyes staring back at him were almost too intense, heavily lidded and suggestive. Jean swallowed in anticipation. There were still too many clothes in the equation.

He pulled Eren down on top of him, kissing at whatever he could reach. Eren braced himself against Jean’s body and nipped at an ear playfully, snaking a hand between them and catching the top of Jean’s boxers with a finger. Jean groaned when he felt Eren tug it down and slide back to position himself between Jean’s legs. He looked up when Eren paused.

“This alright?” He still had his fingers hooked in the elastic of Jean’s boxers, halfway down.

“The fuck are you stopping for?”

Eren grinned then, pulling Jean’s underwear down the rest of the way. For a second, Jean felt stupid wearing only his socks, but the sensation of Eren’s mouth on his cock made him forget the thought immediately. He let out another groan and felt Eren smile around him. Eren pulled back and pumped him with a hand, the other between his own legs pawing at himself through his boxers.

“You like that?” Eren traced his tongue up Jean’s length.

Jean bit his lip and nodded, gasping again as soon as Eren went back down. He grit his teeth. Between his still-swimming head and the glory of Eren’s mouth, it was hard to see straight. Eren bobbed his head slowly and Jean worked a hand into his hair, but he was far from being in control. He lifted his hips into the motion, still trying to create the illusion of being in control, but Eren knew better. After a few minutes, Jean was shaking and trying to hold himself together. Eren pulled away with a wolfish grin.

“Your little shiver is so cute.” He crawled over Jean and straddled him, grinding his hips against Jean’s bare erection languidly. “You’re just begging for me.”

Jean managed to catch his hands in Eren’s underwear and yanked them down as best he could. Eren sprang up and gave Jean a slightly surprised look, but moved to let him take them off and throw them across the room with everything else. Eren grinded into him again, testing their bare bodies together. Jean wrapped a hand around both of them.

“I’ll show you begging,” he growled, pumping his hand.

Eren hummed, unimpressed, and went to kissing Jean’s neck again. Jean shook. Eren had figured out all too quickly that his neck was his weak spot. Jean kept his hand moving, but with Eren rocking into the motion and sucking at a spot near his collarbone, Jean was still doing more damage to himself than to Eren. He was shaking again.

“It’s no good if you finish now,” Eren chastised. “Got any lube?”

Jean stopped his hand, albeit with a bit of difficulty, and nodded.

“In the bedroom, in my suitcase.”

“Good. Come on, I don’t wanna fuck you on the couch.” Eren crawled off and pulled Jean to his feet, tugging him along again.

Jean had figured, since Eren had been straddling him earlier, that he’d end up on top, and Eren had pushed him onto his back again on the bed while he rummaged through the suitcase and came back with the small plastic bottle Jean had packed, though he hadn’t anticipated using it. He got a bit of a shock when Eren dribbled a bit onto his fingers and started massaging them against his entrance.

“Wait, wait.”

Eren stopped immediately.

“I thought I was gonna top.”

Eren looked at him for a second and laughed.

“Not tonight.”

Jean opened his mouth to reply, but was struck by the strange sensation of Eren sliding a finger in. Still rather drunk, his eyelids fluttered as he tried to make sense of what he was feeling. It felt odd for one, but also good in a way he couldn’t describe. He found he also liked the feeling of being stretched when Eren added a second finger, scissoring them and working in and out. He bunched the sheets in his hands with the addition of a third finger. He was about to ask Eren to be more gentle until he curled his fingers and hit a spot that made his vision blur.

“Shit,” he breathed. Eren did it again to watch him shudder.

“You shiver like a virgin,” Eren laughed, curling his fingers in the same manner a third time.

Jean looked away, saying nothing.

“What, don’t tell me you’re a virgin?”

“I’m not. I’m just...always on top.”

Eren looked at him incredulously, still moving his fingers slowly.

“What? With a sweet ass like yours? No way.”

“Yeah…” Jean gave a nervous laugh that hitched into a moan when Eren hit the right spot.

“Well, then.” Eren grinned wolfishly and perched on his knees between Jean’s legs. “You ready?”

Jean nodded slowly, watching Eren lather himself with the lube before tossing the little bottle behind himself. Eren braced a hand on Jean’s knee and guided himself in. Jean couldn’t stop himself from crying out. Eren pushed forward until he was all the way in and leaned down to kiss at Jean’s throat again.

“Say when,” he purred, nipping at the soft skin under his jaw.

Jean sucked in a few breaths and dug his nails into Eren’s back. Somehow, Eren felt a lot bigger than three fingers had been. He moaned softly as Eren exhaled against his neck, raising goosebumps on his skin.

“Okay.”

Eren laughed against his throat and drew his hips back, slowly at first. Jean endured, wondering how anyone he’d slept with had found being a bottom enjoyable, but Eren was there to curl a hand around his cock and pump delicately with the rhythm of his hips. Jean’s body tensed and he dug his heels into the bed. His mouth fell open in a silent moan, nails digging deeper into Eren’s skin. Eren kept moving, but snapped his hips upwards, hitting the spot he’d been toying with earlier.

“Fuck.” Jean pushed his head back into the pillows. “Do that again.”

Eren nodded and complied.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he growled, his hips picking up pace. Jean quivered, panting as Eren pounded into him, clearly aiming for his prostrate now.

“Fuck, I’m close.” A jolt went through his body when Eren squeezed his cock and snapped his wrist with the next stroke. The booze had killed all his stamina, so he knew he wouldn’t last long. “Don’t stop.”

Eren grunted and went faster, hitting harder, his breathing growing labored as well. Jean felt his climax start to coil in his stomach, heat growing in his cheeks. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Eren, I’m gonna--I’m gonna--” His breath caught in his throat as his body shook violently with orgasm. He came into Eren’s hand and felt it drip onto his stomach. His body clenched in waves and Eren kept thrusting through it until his hips stuttered and he stopped moving, his whole body shaking as he came. He held onto Jean’s knee until his body stopped shaking and he pulled out, collapsing onto the bed next to Jean. He took a moment to catch his breath.

“Not bad,” he panted. “For a richboy.”

“Shutup, asshole.”

They lay there for a few minutes before Jean summoned the energy to get up, stumble across the room and clean himself off. He came back and threw a wet washcloth at Eren so he could do the same and he rolled back into bed. They lay side-by-side without a word, the washcloth discarded somewhere on the floor with everything else.

Jean walked his hand across the mattress until he found Eren’s and wove their fingers together. He squeezed and Eren squeezed back.

“Hey, Eren?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you stay the night?”

The sheets rustled as Eren propped himself up on an elbow to look at Jean, then leaned down to kiss him. He snuggled closer, burying his nose in the space between Jean’s neck and shoulder.

“Yeah.”

**Author's Note:**

> awwww yeahhhhhh
> 
> also I know nothing about men's formal wear. or alcohol. so yeah


End file.
